


celestial causation

by shibuya



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Light Masochism, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, palmistry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 19:43:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15870450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shibuya/pseuds/shibuya
Summary: When Asra winked, Julian's body produced a sort of spasm, and he reeled away, elbow slipping on the table and slamming his funny bone, leaving him wheezing. When Asra looked up at him sharply, he schooled himself back into stillness, depositing his hand back. Nothing happened, insofar as Julian was willing to acknowledge. “Ahem hem. That so. And my fate?”





	celestial causation

**Author's Note:**

> im alive. I havent read any arcana in like months but please take this I'm sorry I started this like forever ago and finally crammed out an end. Takes place at some nebulous point in time, I don't know anything. Also, writing this fic I discovered that the plural of humerus is not 'humeruses' (funny, straightforward, good pluralization) but is actually 'humeri' (awkward, obscure, absolutely egregious) and I hate it

They had been talking over tea in Asra's shop. At first it had the pretense of a reading; Asra obliged him often, apparently fascinated with the fickle way the cards would prophecy for Julian, and he insisted on five to ten draws at the same sitting, laughing in that miraculous way of his. The amusement started at the curl of his lips, danced in his hair, and rolled through his fingers as he shuffled the cards again. There was a fiendish conceit and pity to the way the arcana made their judgments, and Julian couldn't tell if Asra was playing a cruel trick on him or if he was sincerely a doomed man. Well, neither would surprise him.

But, in the case of the latter, he knew that very well already. He'd let himself enter the shop and sit in one Asra's colorfully draped chairs and have his company, and, to that end, allowed himself yet another hour or two of punishment. Or rather, gazing longingly into Asra's general direction whenever he let his heart get the better of things, and sputtering out embarrassing excuses.

After Asra tired of the cards' prophecies of misfortune – or, as the magician tried to imply, after the cards were themselves tired of _Julian_ , Asra shuffled them away. The doctor made the mistake of attempting to help – he'd barely laid a finger against one of the intricately painted cards when Asra snatched the tarot away, his face a rare picture of surprise and faint alarm that he didn't quite manage to suppress in time.

“Excuse me my rudeness, Asra. I meant no harm,” Julian said, laying the offending hands on the table, palm-up, to show his innocence.

“It's fine,” Asra said, his smile going wry. “I know you don't. And hey – you've given me an idea. There's more than one way to read a future. If you like.” He held out a hand. There was something sort of greedy and charming about the gesture, like a kid demanding candy, fingers waggling.

Julian raised an eyebrow, but eased off one of his gloves nonetheless. He tended to agree readily with Asra without thinking very much on it, but this was new, this gave him pause. “I wasn't aware you did palm readings.”

Asra's hands were warm. “I don't. But the cards aren't happy with you, so why not give it a try? Now, let's see.” He scrutinized Julian's hands for a moment, humming. It was a striking difference between the quick, effortless reading he'd give from the cards – this took a few moments of silence between them. Julian tensed in his seat, flustered by the barely-there touch of Asra's hands under his own.

Finally, the magician spoke. “Your life line is quite long – looks like you'll be around for a while.”

Julian gave a rueful grin. _Oh, I doubt it, if I go on like this._ “Aha! Go on.”

“And your heart line … ends between the Mount of Jupiter and Saturn. A perfect love.”

When Asra winked, Julian's body produced a sort of spasm, and he reeled away, elbow slipping on the table and slamming his funny bone, leaving him wheezing. When Asra looked up at him sharply, he schooled himself back into stillness, depositing his hand back. Nothing happened, insofar as Julian was willing to acknowledge. “Ahem hem. That so. And my fate?”

Asra shook his head with a grin before going on. “Your fate line is also exemplary, long and unbroken. Looks like you've got your work cut out for you. You're going to find truth and victory in whatever you do next.” Asra's eyes glittered with barely suppressed mirth.

“No wonder you don't do palm readings, Asra. They're despicable and so very inaccurate.”

Asra shook his head and finally broke into a volley of delighted laughter, giving back Julian's hand after what felt like a decade of torment and aching humeri and hearts. “Really? Well, I tried my best. There's not much else I can do for you.”

_Isn't there?_ His laughter was beautiful. It beamed out of him like a light, even difficult to look at directly. _Swallow the thought, before it jumps out of your mouth,_ Julian thought, and he forced himself to look away. Julian eased his voice into something conversational. “Why don't I give it a try?”

“Really?” Asra's shock segued back into a lighter amusement. “Oh, now I have to see this.” He offered up his hands, all the more eager.

No, gods, he'd made a mistake, it was even worse this way round. Julian hesitated, biting his tongue, before he reached out for Asra's palm, turning it to face him in a precise, clinical gesture, lacking all of the magician's flourish. Of course, all the lines meant nothing to him, and he knew very well that they were merely formed by happenstance of the skin, the muscles, the bones underneath. And yet Asra's hands were lovely in detail; the golden color of his skin, his finely kept nails, the shapely ridge of his knuckles – all of it, charming and fully worth studying in detail. But Julian didn't dare lengthen the torture of having to hold all his desperate affection at arms length. Or at the width between hands.

And he'd be discovered for all his ogling, anyway.

“What do you foretell for me, Ilya?” Asra asked, cocking his head. “I'd love to know your professional opinion.”

Julian didn't manage to shut his mouth in time. “I can't tell you anything about your future. You are, amid all your other titles and responsibilities, the total master of your own fate. But what else can I tell you? I know that you rest your pen here, when you write. And you write often. This cut here looks like a slip of the knife, maybe a day or two ago. Hassle at dinner? Ah – and your thumb. A littering of papercuts – hasty reading. Flipping pages. Such a nuisance. And yet …”

Julian tore his eyes away from the hand, to find Asra staring blankly into him, at a loss for words.

“Well – that is to say! That I give up.” Julian moved to retreat, but Asra held firm, twisting them so they held palm to palm, and curled his fingers in between Julian's, his gaze soft and almost pitying. Julian watched him, waiting for Asra to take his hand away, to admonish him for what was most certainly not a fortune telling, to maybe smile and suggest that it's getting late and that they ought to part ways for now – but Asra sat there, holding his hand, his expression giving nothing away.

“You shouldn't,” Asra finally said. “It wasn't so bad … and now I see there are a few different ways to read these things. For the past and present, rather than the future. Intriguing, you know. Mm, let me begin again.”

“Asra, that's really not - ”

He brought Julian's hand up to face him again, fingers around his wrist. “You wear gloves, so I can't really see what things you get up to with these hands. But I could guess, couldn't I?” Asra let his lips hover just a hair's breadth from Julian's palm before he kissed it. A brief, bare press of warmth and softness, and a whole current that made Julian's body tense and go blood-hot. The touch, even as bare and fleeting as it was, lit a nervous fire in Julian's belly.

“Asra,” Julian repeated, warningly, short of breath.

Asra didn't hear him or didn't care to. He let his lips travel about to the tip of Julian's ring finger, letting the line of it brush against his lip before he took the finger into his mouth. A shallow, hot recess. Julian gasped, clutching at the table weakly with his free hand as he watched, helpless to it.

“Please, it's too much,” Julian told him, hardly able to speak.

Asra – when he finally, generously relented – gave an airy laugh. “Too much? That's a shame, since I could think of so much more we could do.”

“Care to tell me, or leave me in suspense til I burst into flames?”

“So dramatic. You'd very well do that kind of thing without my help. But, here - ” Time seemed to dip, in the golden way that magic allowed for, and Asra was close, his lips near Julian's ear, the softness of his hair brushing against his cheek. And he began to whisper. Julian felt the blood race up to his face, hardly able to breathe, as Asra raptly declaimed for him. It was one of the most erotic things Julian had ever heard (or came very close), and yet Asra hardly used a lewd word. Even more distractingly, Julian could feel the shape of his perfect lips feathering around his ear, brushing softly against him now and then, the imprints of orphaned kisses.

“ … but, all my very fantastic suggestions aside, Ilya, what would you like to do now?” Asra said, leaning away with swift satisfaction, a hand on Julian's hip, drawing distracting circles with his thumb.

“Everything. All of it. But first – kiss me,” Julian pleaded.

Asra nodded, smiled, and let his lips hover over Julian's for a moment before he backed away again, apparently thinking better of it, before brushing his fingers over Julian's eyes. He closed them thoughtlessly, and then, with the image of Asra burned into his eyelids, he felt the warmth of the magician's mouth against his own as Asra brought their lips together. Julian nearly pulled away in shock, but Asra's hand was on his jaw, curled near his ear, steadying him, pulling him in, coaxing and warm.

When they finally parted, Asra's mouth had wandered close to Julian's ear again, hot with his breath, and he whispered: “Did it live up to expectation?” He bit Julian's ear, and the man's heart just about stopped. “Or should I try again?”

“Yes,” Julian told him, breathless. Asra laughed into the returning kiss, running his nails through Julian's hair, pulling gently. _I would allow you anything,_ Julian thinks, not wanting to breathe or part them just yet. The feel and scent of his soft pale hair brushing so close against him was almost as distracting and enchanting as his kiss.

Asra nipped at his bottom lip as they parted, and left Julian stinging, all his nerves on end. His eyes were half-lidded, like a satisfied cat, and when Julian couldn't seem to stop staring, he rested his cheek against Julian's, his voice low.

“Do you want to go to bed, then? More room. Blankets, pillows. I could light a candle that'd put your hair on end for a few hours. Or, actually, there's a sort of salve I wanted to try - ”

Julian sputtered. “Should I beg you?” He asked, incredulous, though, in some slight and shameful way, he knew it wasn't wholly out of the realm of something he'd do. Knowing that, he probably shouldn't have said it, even in jest.

Because Asra was too clever, he could intuit all these embarrassing things about him about as easily as anything else. Asra laughed. “If I wanted that, you'd make it too easy. But we'll see. Maybe I'll change my mind.”

Julian snapped his mouth shut, not trusting his words, and managed to nod. Asra took Julian's hand in his, pulling him away from the alcove he took readings in and toward the back room, the modest little area where he and his apprentice slept. “Watch your head, Doctor.”

“No real loss,” Julian muttered, ducking under a beaded curtain. His room was much like how he'd pictured – an eclectic mixing of styles, foreign and exotic furs and throws, scattered books and knickknacks littering nearly every available surface. Julian was sure he could spend a good afternoon simply poking around and seeing all the odd relics of Asra's travels – but the magician seemed to have other ideas.

There was only one bed, apparently shared between Asra and his apprentice, piled generously with blankets and pillows. Asra had perched himself atop the heap, leaning back on his hands with a sigh as he looked over Julian, his gaze appraising.

Julian felt himself grow self-conscious, putting a hand through his already tragically mussed hair. “Second thoughts? Tell me to go, and I'll really throw myself out the door … however much I want this, and want you, just say the word, and I will make myself gone.”

“Don't have a heart attack, Ilya. I'm just appreciating,” Asra finally said, his hand shifting restlessly through the silk. Though, he seemed to understand Julian's anxieties, and after a moment, his expression softened. “Come here.”

Julian approached, and, not sure what else to do with himself, knelt on the ground before him. Asra raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, leaning down to give him another kiss, holding him by the jaw with one hand, gathering the red curls of his hair in the other, bringing him close. Julian gave a throaty, muffled moan when Asra's hand curled a touch roughly at his hair before sliding down to his collar, loosening the fabric there, hasty, pushing the coat off his shoulders -

“I-I want you,” Julian gasped, when Asra parted them.

“Show me, then,” Asra told him, panting himself, his face flushed. He didn't waste time in yanking up the sash across his body, pushing down his trousers, and guiding Julian's hand between his thighs with a soft groan. There was a moment between them as Julian's hand stilled, tender as a whispered question, and Asra only nodded, spurring him on.

There, between his thighs, he was wet and soft, and parted easily under Julian's fingers.

“You're lovely, I – ah,” Julian said, stammering a bit when Asra canted his hips up against his touch, pressing back down on his fingers, his pale hair loose and laying in curls against his face. Beautiful.

“I know,” Asra murmured, his eyes fluttering shut. “Don't stop – your hand, please.”

Julian slowly, achingly, drew his thumb across Asra's clit, circling. Asra's gave a musical sort of noise of pleasure, tightening a hand in Julian's hair. Pulling him down. “ _Yes,_ there - ”

Julian ran his tongue across the lean, taut planes of Asra's belly, down the line of his navel, before letting his mouth hover just above his sex, wanting, somehow, to burn this moment inside his eyelids, so he'd remember the picture of Asra underneath him, gorgeous, half-lidded, flushed and wanting.

Asra carded another rough, careless hand through Julian's hair, impatient. Julian wasted no further time in giving him what he wanted. He could feel the warmth of his gaze over the crown of his head, the hitch as the pace of his breath ran shallow. Julian hounded his pleasure, sought it on his tongue until Asra was inching up the bed, hands clutching at the blankets, biting his lip.

Julian felt it when he came, nothing more than a subtle shiver of limbs, and the soft retreating caress of his hand on Julian's cheek. “Up, up. Mm, you're pretty good at that, Ilya. Where did you learn that sort of - ”

“Middle of the ocean. During a storm. There was nothing to do, and for hours I – I started talking about other lovers, and it was very erotic.” Julian dropped his head on Asra's shoulder, groaning. “God damn it, why do I - ”

Asra pulled Julian's lips onto his, pulled him down to the bed on top of him, grasping and canting his body against Julian's. There was a shock of pleasure as Asra's hand fell down to Julian's side, scraping lightly ( _too lightly_ , Julian thought, hazy with pleasure) at any bared flesh at all before sinking lower, between his thighs, grasping him and pulling away and then back again in the loosest of strokes, like damask flying in the breeze, not enough, barely there, nothing at all. Julian buried his face in Asra's shoulder, begging him inwardly, laying kisses on his shoulder, groaning when Asra finally relented in his teasing.

“There, there,” Julian moaned, knuckles gone white, sparks dancing on the backs of his lids. Asra led him through climax with clever, ruthless turns of his wrist, even past the point of pleasure. Julian struggled, weak-kneed, to merely submit to it, til Asra had perhaps gotten bored of the ridiculous faces Julian was making and draw his hand away.

Asra licked his thumb, a thoughtful look on his face.

Julian sagged into the bed, breathing hard, not able to speak. There was a delicious shame thrumming under his bones for how fast he'd finished under Asra's hand, and yet he found himself satisfied all the same, only somehow wondering if Asra would let him bring him off again, if he'd pull his hair, if he'd let him beg – Julian realized he was kissing Asra, over and over. A bitter taste of his own spend on Asra's tongue, the shape of his teasing, terrible laughs, all of it.

Asra had to draw him off with a hand at the back of his head. A sharp, furtive pull that had Julian's skin tingling, electrified, and utterly at a loss to be without his lips. He'd moaned again, quite loudly.

“Hello to you too, Ilya,” Asra laughed breathlessly, squirming under Julian's body. No doubt, Julian was crushing him, and he wasn't particularly compelled to move. “You're _heavy.”_

“I'm sorry, what did you - ? Come again? Can I just - ” Julian lifted his torso off Asra, just long enough to readjust his point of attack, and kissed him senseless, til Asra kissed him back, running distracting touches along his side and back til he managed to shove Julian off, on his back, control relinquished.

 


End file.
